


Seismic Changes

by NyxEtoile, OlivesAwl



Series: Legacy of the Tower [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Original Work
Genre: California, Canon Autistic Character, Childhood Friends, F/M, Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-05 08:16:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14040033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyxEtoile/pseuds/NyxEtoile, https://archiveofourown.org/users/OlivesAwl/pseuds/OlivesAwl
Summary: Seismic1. of, subject to, or caused by an earthquake2. of or relating to a vibration on a celestial body3. having a strong or widespread impact“Oh, I almost forgot to mention—Violet said Neil accepted a job at Stanford.”Frances Bennett looked over at her mother’s face on the video chat. “Out here?”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Our first legacy couple is Neil Banner (Bruce Banner's son) and Frances Bennett (Darcy Lewis's daughter.) We really enjoyed this pair and I know a lot of you wanted to see what became of Neil. So please enjoy.
> 
> If you have not read our [Tales from the Tower](http://archiveofourown.org/series/190958) series, the couples in this series will not make a lot of sense as they are the children of the Avengers and other characters in that series. Please feel free to go give it a read before checking these out.

It wasn’t all that unusual for Frances Bennett to be working at 3AM.

Not that she was a workaholic—though sometimes she was—but she did her best thinking in the dim and quiet. Her office was all open floor plan, a trend from the teens that had gone out of fashion and come back just in time for her to enter the working world.

She wrote software, something that required concentration. So, instead, she went into work late, blearily wandered the internet and wasted time until she could leave the warehouse-like room where her desk was, and then after dinner she got to work. 

Plus, she’d found it was the best time of day to talk to her mother, who’d just woken up on the east coast. Getting older had flipped Darcy from a night owl to a morning person. Old people had different circadian rhythms.

“Oh, I almost forgot to mention—Violet said Neil accepted a job at Stanford.”

She’d been typing, and looked over at her mother’s face on the video chat. “Out here?” Like there was another Stanford.

"Yes, that one. He'll be heading out next month and start teaching in the fall.”

“Huh. Good for him.” She absolutely could not believe Neil Banner would move to California. “Is he coming by himself?”

"I think Bruce and Violet are going out to help him look for a place to live, but they've made it clear they're coming back here. He did mention getting in touch with you, so if you're willing to show him around a little. . .”

“Sure. I’d have him over for dinner if I had a second dining chair.” Her apartment was kind of a shoebox.

"He can probably afford to take you out," her mother assured her.

“Yeah I suppose so.”

"It's Neil, so I'm sure you're not going to get stuck playing tour guide every weekend. But it'd make it easier on him if someone familiar could vouch for the best pizza place or whatever.”

“There’s no pizza, Mom. Not to a New Yorker. There’s stuff with sauce and cheese that they put in an oven, but it’s not pizza.”

"I didn't raise you to be a food snob, Frannie-Foo.”

“Pizza’s broke food. Drunk food. College kid food. And San Francisco sucks at it.”

"Fine, fine. For all I know he doesn't eat it anyway.”

“I’ll find something to feed him, I promise.”

"Thank you. I'll give him your number when he heads out.”

She didn’t know Neil terribly well, but she knew him enough to doubt he’d call for chit-chat. “Sure thing.”

"I'll let you get to work, then. Have a good night.”

She didn’t hear much about it after that. A few weeks later her mother emailed her he’d bought a house. She knew the Banner kids all had trust funds from their Uncle Tony. She was kind of jealous, if she was honest. It would be fun to have a trust fund.

Then one night while she was hammering out a new program her phone rang with an unknown number.

She didn’t know why she picked up—who was calling her at 11:30? Maybe she thought there might be a telemarketer she could prank, or one of her sisters needed bail. “Yeah?”

"Frances? This is Neil Banner. Is there anywhere nearby that you would recommend that serves Hawaiian food?”

Frannie approved of people who didn’t waste too much time on small talk. “Depends, where are you?”

"My house is in Portola Valley.”

“Jesus, how much money did the Starks give you?” She had her mother’s brain-mouth filter.

"They didn't give me any directly, but the house cost just under five million. I'm paying a mortgage, though.”

She’d asked a blunt and kind of rude question, and he didn’t get offended. He just answered it. “Okay, so, Hawaiian. I assume not for right now? Midnight food unfortunately requires San Francisco.”

"I'm all right for now. But I'd really like some macaroni salad and a good Hawaiian place is the best for that.”

“Au contraire,” she replied. “There’s a Korean deli in Cupertino called Ponzi’s. Like the Scheme. The owner is from Hawaii. Best mac salad in the South Bay, and I’m a girl who feels strongly about things covered in mayo.”

"Hmm. I will give that a try, then.”

“Don’t eat the pizza.”

“At the deli?”

“Anywhere.”

"All right." There was a pause. "Would you like to go to the deli with me?”

“My mother did insinuate you would at some point provide me with a meal.”

"I'm happy to buy you a meal in return for recommendations. Especially because now that you've spoken about it, it's likely you'll develop a craving for it as well.”

Now that he mentioned it. . . “How did you know that?”

"It's a common pattern. I notice patterns. Especially in behavior. It makes navigating social situations a little easier.”

“I’m sorry if I made you want pizza.”

"You didn't. I don't really like pizza." He paused. "Well, your mother took me to a Chicago pizza place once that was all right. And when I was a kid there was a frozen mini-pizza that was acceptable but they didn't have it in Wakanda and when we came back it wasn't sold anymore.”

“There’s a particular kind of pizza—thin crust, kinda greasy, not too gooey cheese—that’s a New York thing. It’s the only edible kind, to me. My mother thinks that makes me a food snob.”

She could almost hear him shrug. "People have preferences in all kinds of things. Why people get so offended at food preferences has always baffled me.”

“Me too.” She braced her phone on her shoulder so she could reach her keyboard and mark the appointment. Frannie didn’t remember to show up for anything her phone didn’t beep at her and tell her to do. “Lunch tomorrow? You can make me a list of food you like and I’ll see where I can point you.”

"All right. Do you want to meet me at the deli at twelve thirty?”

“There will be less crowds if we wait until 1.”

"One it is."

*

Neil didn't like the highways in California. There were too many with the number 8 in them and because of the bay, once you hit a certain southern point the direction changed. You could happily be going south on 280 and suddenly, without changing lanes or merging anywhere, you were on 680 east. He understood _why_ it happened, but it still seemed illogical. He had learned to drive in Wakanda, which was very well organized. In New York he'd usually borrowed one of the Stark electric cars to commute from Avengerville to college, which had driven themselves so he could zone out. He'd requested one from Uncle Tony to use here and he'd promised to ship one out, soon. For now, Neil was reading a lot of maps and making do.

Fortunately, he didn't need to deal with the 280/680 mess to get the the deli Frances had told him about. It was straightforward and he arrived a few minutes before one.

He found a table to wait, and at five after saw her sprinting across the parking lot. Her curly hair was held in a disorderly bun by what looked like a knitting needle. Pieces escaped as she ran.

She burst into the deli. “Hi, I’m here, sorry.”

“Hi Frannie!” called the guy behind the counter and she waved while catching her breath.

Neil stood as she came over to join him and held out a hand for her to shake. "Hi, Frances.”

She grinned at him. “Hi.” Sometimes the meaning of people’s facial expressions were lost on him, and he liked people who made them obvious. Both of her parents were like that, it made sense she was the same.

"Thank you for meeting me.” 

“Got me out of my office. And it’s a circus, so I never get anything done.” She inclined her head towards the counter. “You want anything but the mac salad?”

He'd taken a moment to check the menu. "I will try the bul gol gi.”

“Got it,” she said, hopping up to go order.

It wasn't until she'd come back he remembered he was supposed to pay. "I owe you a meal now.”

“I know. I was hoping it would be in a fancier restaurant.”

He blinked, then smiled. "If you find a fancy place with food I will eat, I will buy you whatever you like.”

She pointed at him. “So tell me what you like.”

"Starch. Not grease. Red meat, not white. Certain vegetables. Most fruit.”

Frannie dug out her tablet and made notes. “How do you feel about fish?”

"Shell fish and white fish. No salmon or swordfish or things with tentacles. And it has to not hassle me about my service dog.”

Neil watched her lean down and look under the table, noticing his black lab for the first time. Then she straightened and asked. “Spice?”

"Moderate. I learned to like Wakandan food.”

She grinned again. “I can work with that.”

He returned the smile. “Good."

And so a week later he found himself sitting in a steakhouse in Palo Alto. It was full of dark wood and booths with very high backs. To some—his older sister, for example—it might feel very claustrophobic. But it felt cozy and safe at their booth in the back, dim lighting and isolation from the noise of the rest of the restaurant. The table was wall mounted, so Scout could tuck herself at their feet without having to move around table legs.

She’d obviously chosen this restaurant with great care.

"This is a very nice place," he told Frances once they were settled.

“I wrote some software to scrape and analyze the data from 4,000 Yelp reviews. This was the winner.”

"That's impressive," he said, though he knew very little about software programming. But it was her specialty and she'd used it to help him, so he found that impressive.

“Data can be mined for all sorts of things. It’s like the true voice of the human hive mind.”

He nodded. "I like review sites like Yelp. Get a variety of perspectives and make an educated decision.”

“I have trouble making decisions. Too many options. I get paralyzed. So I let the math tell me.”

"I understand completely.”

“Some people think it’s. . .cold.” She shrugged. “I don’t get it.”

He nodded slowly. "People think I'm cold. Or at least. . . odd. I'm used to it.”

“I don’t think it’s cold to be honest. Isn’t life easier that way? I mean, we can’t all get what we want in a larger sense, but we can all get our dinner the way we want it. Just ask. Why eat tomatoes on your sandwich if you hate them?”

"Uncle Tony once commented that he liked your mother because he could count on her for the unvarnished truth.”

“I have all of her bluntness and none of her quirky charm.”

He blinked. "You seem nice.”

“You seem like someone who doesn’t have patience for social nonsense. Probably why I seem nice.”

"I don't," he admitted. "I like bluntness. Social rules are useful in some situations, but mostly arbitrary and conflicting.”

“They’re only useful if everyone in the room knows them. And how to follow them.”

"And they change vastly between countries, cultures, and socioeconomic levels.”

“Like a code you only have half the key for.” She smiled at him. “So how about we get some steak?”

"That sounds like a good plan.”

The steak was delicious. He even fed a few bits under the table to Scout, who napped through most of dinner. It was one of the nicest restaurant meals Neil had had in a long time.

He happily paid the bill, leaving a large tip and made a note of the expense in his accounting app. "Would you like to do something else?" he asked Frances.

She blinked at him. “Like what?”

He shrugged. "I don't know. But I'm enjoying myself, which is rare, so I thought I would make an attempt to extend it.”

“Sounds reasonable. You like old movies? There’s a theatre downtown that plays them.”

"I do like old movies." His father had had a fondness for black and white gangster films.

She inclined her head. “Follow me.”

He held Scout's lead and they walked out of the restaurant on into the pleasant summer evening. 

The theatre was big and old, full of a century’s worth of movie posters. They were doing a series on movies about high school from the 1980’s. The movie was set in the US, but to them it seemed as foreign as if it had been made in China.

"I don't remember my high school being so segregated," Neil commented as they strolled out. "Most people just got along with each other.”

“You did go to high school in Wakanda,” she replied.

"That's true. For the most part their social norms are different. Plus my school was all neurodivergent kids. We tend to have less social drama and more personal drama.”

“I went to a private school in Manhattan. Lots of rich kids. Lots of drama. Though, also, not segregated by topic—only by socioeconomic status.”

"Ada had some of that when she was young. Before we went upstate.” 

She shrugged. “Mostly I just hung out with the boys.”

"Boys in general? Or boys from the Tower?”

“Both. Girls are complicated and mean. And underhanded. You piss a boy off, he punches you. Fight gets settles. Girls wage psychological warfare. No thank you.”

He nodded slowly. "Spoken like a woman with three sisters.”

She inclined her head. “That too. They’re all better at the game.”

"They're more like your mother. You are more like your father.”

“That is definitely very true.”

"I always liked your dad. If I had been technically inclined I could have worked for him.”

“Probably. You seem like his kind of person.”

They stopped at a corner to wait for the light to change and Neil crouched to pet Scout. "I had a nice time tonight.”

She grinned. “Me too. And I usually hate social activities.”

“I’d be happy to share a meal or other social activity with you again sometime.”

“Do you keep late hours?”

“I’m more or less nocturnal,” he told her, with a crooked smile. “It was a requirement of my employment with Stanford that my classes be afternoon only.”

Frances chuckled. “You know what? You and I are going to get along just fine.”


	2. Chapter 2

Starting up a friendship as an adult with someone you’d known as a child—and your parents were still close friends—was kind of an interesting experience. You had a lot of the same stories. 

As kid, Frances had found Neil kind of odd, but as adults they got along like a house on fire. Most of their conversations took place over messaging apps at all hours, but that suited her fine. Occasionally they got some kind of food. They once went on a five hour road trip to Sacramento to eat at the only west-coast installment of Neil’s favorite hamburger chain. He invited her rock climbing, which was his favorite hobby. She had no athletic strength or ability, so it was a bit of a fail.

_I think I pulled a muscle_ , she texted him that night. 

_I’m sorry. Is it serious?_

_I can’t lift my left arm._

_Do you want me to take you to the ER?_

She stared at her phone for a moment. Her arm really did hurt. _Urgent care is probably still open._ She didn’t waste time on the socially expected ‘Oh, I don’t want to bother you’. She was certain Neil had never in his life offered to do something he didn’t mean.

_You will have to tell me how to get there. But you should get it looked at. Pain killers and muscle relaxants will help it heal._

She texted him the address of her apartment complex, a link to a map of the layout, and the code to get upstairs in her building. And a heartfelt _Thank you_ with a bunch of emojis.

He didn’t reply to that, but about forty minutes later there was a knock on her door. Three rapid knocks, followed by two more. She got up to let him in. “Hi, thank you.” She stepped back in to get her purse. She could see him looking around her shoebox of an apartment.

“That is very small,” he commented when she rejoined him at the doorway.

She patted his arm with her good hand. “Not everybody has trust funds, Neil.”

They started down the hall. “Do you like it? Or does the lack of space bother you.”

“I mean, I grew up in the Manhattan. So I’m sort of used to it. But we had the huge windows and views and it didn’t feel like a soulless box.” She looked up at him. “No. I don’t like it. But I make it as homey as possibly and do my best.” 

He nodded, looking thoughtful. “I’m always interested in other people’s preferences.”

Neil asked a lot of questions. You just kind of got used to it. “Did you leave Scout down in the car?”

“I let her stay at home. Urgent Care isn’t likely to be stressful to me, or so crowded as to cause a sensory overload.”

“I can’t believe you don’t find Urgent Care stressful. Room full of sick people in bad moods.”

“I’m not sick.”

“Isn’t that worse? It’s germ soup.” She rubbed her arm. “Sorry, I’ll shut up, I’m not trying to talk you into anxiety.”

They’d reached his car and he opened the passenger door for her. “The concept of getting sick doesn’t cause me stress,” he explained. “I don’t enjoy being sick. But I’m generally healthy and the occasional cold is a fact of life.”

“Do you get Man Sick?” She climbed onto the soft leather seats. Neil had a really nice car.

“I’m unfamiliar with the term.”

“It’s where you become completely prostrate with a simple cold, and require care.”

“Ah. No. I don’t mind care, but I would rather be left alone with my computer, Sudafed, and cough syrup.”

“I can respect that.”

“Do you like to be cared for?”

She found she answered things more honestly when talking to him than she did anyone else. “I do, but that doesn’t mean it ever happens. Busy parents, four kids—and I love my Mom, but she’s the queen of telling us to suck it up and stop whining. And now I’m out here alone, and kinda lousy at making friends.”

He nodded again, in that efficient way he had. He drove carefully, and didn’t like to talk when he did so. When they were approaching the urgent care he said, “I’m sorry you got hurt.”

“It’s not at all your fault. I should have been honest about how appallingly out of shape I am.” And she was way too competitive. She’d just kind of assumed because he was so nerdy he was as much a couch potato as all the guys she worked with—not someone who’d climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro. 

He did have really, really nice arms.

“Sometimes I forget that not everyone has the same experiences I do,” he admitted. He found parking near the main doors and came around to open her door again. “When you feel better, if you want to come again I can show you some easier climbs.”

“I think I probably need to hit the gym before I an reliably lift my body with my arms.”

He smiled. “Understood.”

They got checked in, and settled for a very long wait. She wasn’t bleeding or contagious, and so was probably somewhere close to last. She wanted to tell him he didn’t have to stay, but she liked the company. Her stupid arm hurt.

They sat in silence for a while, then Neil pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I have some games we could play. . . do you like crosswords? Or chess?”

“I’m a little scared to play chess against you, I’ve seen your mind at work.”

“I’m actually not that good at it. Dad say’s I’m too logic focused. I can’t see unpredictable moves coming. So unless I play against a machine, I get tripped up.”

“I see all the wild possibilities, and never the obvious thing in front of my face.”

“See? You’ll probably kick my ass.”

They passed the time playing chess, which neither of them won, and helped keep her distracted until they called her back. She was poked and prodded, told she needed to see an orthopedist and have an MRI. Could be minor, could a torn rotator cuff requiring surgery. They have her a sling, muscle relaxants and painkillers and sent her on her way.

Neil was frowning as they walked back to his car. “I hate vague answers.”

“At least it’ll hurt less soon.”

“Will your job give you time off?”

“Yeah, I never take days off so I have a shit-ton of PTO. They’re always nagging me to take a vacation.” She huffed. “Some vacation, sitting in my stupid apartment. At least I’ll have narcotics, those are entertaining.”

He was quiet, holding the door open for her. She supposed there wasn’t much to say. She just hoped he didn’t feel too guilty.

“You should come stay with me,” he said when they were out of the parking lot and on the road.

She looked over at him. “What?”

“You should come stay with me. I have a huge house. And you shouldn’t be alone if you’re taking narcotics and muscle relaxants.”

“That would be really disruptive. I know how particular you are about your routines.”

He shrugged. “I’ll have my classes still. And Scout. I don’t find you unpleasant to be around." He glanced at her. “I would not have offered if I thought it would negatively impact me.”

“I know. I just want to make sure you’re not underestimating how much of a pain in the ass I am.”

That got a little smile. “If you’re very bad I’ll call your mother so she can tell you to stop whining.”

That made her laugh. “Fair enough. Then yes, thank you, I accept your offer.”

“Good.” Efficient nod. “You can pack some things and I’ll bring you home.”

“I may need some help with the packing, being one-armed and all.”

“I’m good at packing.”

That was, in fact, true. She was astonished by the amount of stuff he managed to fit in a suitcase. “My Mom used to tell me you saw the world differently. I used to think that meant like. . . society and all our constructs. But I’ve noticed you have an almost otherworldly grasp of spatial relations.” She’d seen him parallel park his sports car—which did not have the best sight lines—into spaces that to her looked smaller than its length.

“I receive a lot of information, all the time. When I was younger I couldn’t process it, so it was constantly overwhelming, like being in a room with a dozen TVs and radios on all at once. Therapy and age helped me sort it out and learn what to ignore and how to decompress so the input doesn’t build up. That’s part of why I have the therapy dogs. They can give me a single, familiar thing to focus on.”

She watched him zip the suitcase. “Is that why you like living in the middle of nowhere?”

“It is, yeah. I don’t do well with neighbors that aren’t family. Arguments, loud televisions, weird smells.”

“Makes sense. I’m dying to see your house.”

He looked a little perplexed. “It’s just a house. I haven’t decorated much.” He picked up the suitcase. “You’ll like the wi-fi.”

“Have you noticed the box I live in?”

“I did. I commented on it when I picked you up.”

They got back in his car, and Frances said, “My mother told me that you bought the house for the property, and that the inside was very dated.” She looked at him. “My mother was quoting your mother.”

“My mother is a master of tact.”

“Is the interior dated? And if it is, do you care?”

“I had the old gross carpet pulled up and everything is structurally sound. But yeah, it’s probably a little dated.”

“I don’t think that you’d find renovations enjoyable.”

“No,” he said slowly and emphatically. “That level of disruptions makes me stressed out, just thinking about it.”

They stopped at a pharmacy to get her meds, and then he drove to his house. It was in the hills, up a dark and very winding road. She’d probably find it scary to drive, even in daylight. The house loomed out of the trees at the end of a long, steep driveway. It was large, but not oversized the way new construction often was. The front yard was well tended, with lots of old growth trees and a little pond with tasteful lighting on the edges.

He pulled into the garage, helped her out and then retrieved her suitcase. When she walked into the mudroom, she knew exactly what they’d meant by dated. It had clearly been decorated during that phase in the teens where absolutely everything was painted gray, and full of unfinished looking “rustic” wood. “There’s shiplap on this wall,” she commented. “Kitchen’s got a farmhouse sink, doesn’t it?”

Neil didn’t answer, but a familiar voice from the ceiling did. “There is a white porcelain farmhouse-style sink.”

Frances tipped her head back. “FRIDAY?”

“Hello, Miss Frances. It’s nice to see you again.”

“FRIDAY helps me keep my schedule,” Neil explained. “Reminds me to eat. Keeps an eye on my bills and bank account.”

“I grew up in the Tower. I missed FRIDAY when I moved out.”

“She’s nice. She’s part of my familiar stuff.”

She followed him into the kitchen. “Are you really sure I’m not going to be a bother?”

“I can’t be completely sure until we try it. But I think it’ll be all right. If you see me with headphones on just leave me be.”

She smiled. “We got the stern lecture about Neil’s Headphones every Christmas.”

“You know, come to think of it, most of the warnings you got as a child probably still apply.”

“Oh, no. I’m going to tease you all I damn want now.” 

“If you do, I’ll tell on you.”

Frances chuckled. “Now you sound like Ada.”

He smiled at her. “You missed the worst of her tattle tale years.”

She wandered into the living room, which was full of glass. The view beyond was incredible. You could see the bay and all the lights along it, right up to the bright glow of San Francisco. It reminded her so much of the tower that it made her a little homesick. “Wow.”

“Yes,” he said, standing next to her. “That’s why I bought it.”

“This is definitely worth putting up with the shiplap.”

“I don’t spend much time looking at the walls,” he admitted.

“Does my room have a nice view?”

“It does. Come on, I’ll show it to you. I’ll have to find sheets for the bed."

“If you give me a minute to take my painkillers, I probably won't care.”

Neil chuckled a little. “You should be comfortable in your infirmity.”

He made the bed with almost military efficiency, which impressed her. He also unpacked her suitcase because not doing so bothered him. It occurred to her he was handling her underwear as part of this process, but she’d finally taken her meds and just did not care. He had to help her operate the drawer that had her PJs in it.

“Do you need anything else?” he asked, hovering by the door.

“No,” she said. She hesitated a moment, then asked, “How do you feel about hugs?”

He paused and considered it. “With warning and permission I’m usually all right. Do you want one now?”

“I come from a family of huggers. It’s kinda lonely out here.”

“Your mother is very physically affectionate,” he agreed. It was said without judgement. She knew Violet was a hugger, too. He held his arms out for her expectantly.

She hoped she wasn’t making him uncomfortable with this. But her arm hurt and she really wanted a hug. She tucked herself into his chest and he wrapped his arms around her, careful of the hurt one. He had very strong arms and smelled really nice. She rested her head against his shoulder and looped her good arm around his waist. And found she didn’t want to let go.

He rubbed her back and let her hold on a good long while. “You should sleep,” he said finally. “It will help healing.”

Frances could have fallen asleep standing up like that and been happy. She stepped back and smiled up at him. “Thank you. For any number of things.”

“You’re welcome. Sleep well. If I don’t see you in the morning, have a good day.”

“You, too.” She waved a little. “Goodnight, Neil.”

With another one of his perfunctory nods, he smiled and left her alone.


	3. Chapter 3

Despite his assurances to Frances, Neil had been a little concerned having someone else in his space would disrupt his routines. And while it did require a little getting used to, she was clearly making an effort to accommodate him and he found he didn’t mind it terribly. It helped, he thought, that she’d known him as a kid and was more familiar with his needs. He also suspected her family had some mild sensory issues that made her more sympathetic to his.

And he found he liked the company. He’d missed having company. He didn’t do well with people, but that didn’t mean he was a loner. It was just that people other than his own family bothered him. That or they were a complete mystery. Wakandans were blunt. New Yorkers were blunt. Californians were very nice, and very relaxed, which made them nearly impossible for him to read. It made it hard to make friends, aside from a few people at work who were happy to talk about rocks for hours.

Frances was plenty straightforward. She said what she thought and what she wanted, and didn’t seem bothered when he was equally direct. She was also a very still and quiet person, whose idea of a fun evening was sitting on the couch with her laptop. She didn’t even seem bothered by the tapping. And everyone was bothered by the tapping. Even his mother. 

She made appointments with an orthopedist and got an MRI scheduled. For the most part she was self sufficient and when her work gave her to OK to work from home he set her up in his library so she could have quiet and control over her environment for coding.

It had never occurred to him that there could be benefits to having a roommate, but he found he depended on FRIDAY less with another person in the house to remind him about eating and sleeping and down time. They had similar taste in movies and shows and she didn’t mind if he wanted to watch the same thing several days in a row so he could fully absorb it. She even indulged him nitpicking about rocks during a particularly egregious cop show.

“Have you ever thought of watching something in layers?” she asked him one evening.

“Layers?” he repeated in the hope of clarification.

“I’m just thinking of how I would approach software I need to re-write, say. Divide it up, take it one thread at a time. Take a movie, watch it once straight through. Then inspect the details you missed in turn. Watch it on slow-mo, no sound, so you can process all the visual detail. Listen to it with your eyes closed so you can pay attention to just that. Most files are layered, you could even separate the dialogue from the music. Then you can watch it again and just enjoy it, without being stressed out by what you might have missed.”

He considered that a moment. “I think if I tried that I wouldn’t be able to pay attention to the movie, because it wouldn’t be engaging enough.” He paused again, so he could formulate how to explain it. “You are coming from the assumption that I watch it multiple times because the idea of missing something is stressful. That’s not entirely true. I only rewatch things I enjoy. If I watch it several times in a row I can memorize it to a certain degree. Then it becomes something comforting to me, that I could put on when I’m overstimulated or need background noise to drown out other input. I’m not trying to analyze its parts, I want to absorb it as a whole.”

“That makes sense. When I can’t process things I like to take them apart. Until the pieces are small enough that they’re manageable one at a time.”

“I do that for other kinds of information. Learning about rocks or cataloging my books. It just isn’t applicable for movies.”

Before she could answer, Scout ambled over and nudged his arm, indicating he needed to go out. “I’ll get him,” Frances said. “I need a drink. You want anything?”

“No, thank you.” He gave Scout a friendly head rub before pointed to Frances so he’d follow her. She was clearly fond of the dog, and the dog of her. Scout was often a much better judge of character than he was, so Neil trusted him.

A gush of cold air from her opening the patio door heralded her return, and she flopped on the couch. “My MRI is tomorrow and I’m really nervous.”

“Do you think it will be bad news?”

“Maybe? I think mostly the test itself. They put you in a narrow tube and you have to lay perfectly still while the machine makes very loud banging and clanging sounds.”

“I would find that extremely uncomfortable.” He really hoped he never needed an MRI.

“You would,” she agreed. “And then I might need surgery. Yay.”

“Surgery is very scary.” He had never had surgery, but friends had and he knew there were a multitude of risks.

“Yeah.” She sighed. “I should probably take my night dose and see if I can sleep.” She looked over at him. “You still good to drive me?”

“Yes, I’ve canceled my classes. You have me and Scout at your service all day.”

She smiled widely. He was terrible at reading expressions, but he found Frances’s smile was always precisely as wide as she was happy (or not happy). He could probably make a mathematical equation out of it. “Thank you. You don’t have to go anywhere near the Tube of Sensory Hell, I promise.”

“I appreciate that. I will support you as best I can.”

She got up and gave a little wave, then turned and walked to her bedroom.

The next morning, they had to wake up early to make it to her MRI appointment. Neil would never had made it in the medical field, they were obsessed with doing things first thing in the morning. Frances was clearly nervous, but tried to hide it. Scout made a point of leaning over from the back seat of the car to rest his head on her shoulder.

He went as far as the waiting room, which was at least acceptably quiet. She sat and petted the top of Scout’s head until they called her back. She stood up, and on impulse, he stood with her and gave her a hug. “I’ll be right here when you’re done.”

She squeezed him harder than he’d expected. “Thank you.”

He rubbed her back and let her go, giving her what he hoped was a reassuring nod as she walked off. Once she disappeared through the doors, he sat and dug out his phone. His youngest niece, who was 8, liked to text him pictures of rocks and ask him what they were. It was nearly always some kind of quartzite, but every once and a while she’d find something interesting.

Today were two pieces of quartzite and a piece of very unusually marked serpentine. She was extremely excited about the cool name of that one. He was looking forward to her summer trip to Wakanda. He got more variety then.

The wait was long, but eventually Frances returned. She wasn’t smiling at all.

He stood and gave Scout a nudge so he would lean on her when she reached them. “Bad news?” He made an effort to make it a question, just in case.

“I have to wait until the doctors appointment. It was just really loud and claustrophobic and now I have a huge headache.”

He nodded in understanding. “Would you like ice cream? Or perhaps greasy food?”

“I’d like a dark closet. And then maybe ice cream.”

“I can manage that.” He took hold of Scout’s lead, then reached for her hand. That got him a middle-smile, and she tucked her hand in his.

Once home, he got her settled in her room with the shades drawn and some quiet white noise playing from FRIDAY. Then he took Scout down to the store and got her a selection of ice creams and some ingredients to make cookies. His mother had long ago impressed upon him the importance of soothing with food.

He heard her shower go on around the time the cookies went in the oven, and emerged from her room just as he was pulling them out. “Wow, that smells good.” She leaned on the counter. “Doctor called. My rotator cuff has a minor tear. Cortisone shots and PT.” 

“That’s good news? Not surgery.”

“Yes. That’s about as good as it was going to get.” Still, she wasn’t smiling much, which didn’t make sense.

“You’re not happy, though.” He paused. “The cookies will be cool enough to eat in less than ten minutes.”

“PT sucks,” she said. She sighed. “I will be off the meds, so I can get out of your hair.”

“Actually, I’d been thinking about that. I wanted to extend the invitation to have you live here permanently.”

She blinked several times. “What?”

“I don’t think you should go back and live in your apartment.”

He had absolutely no idea what the expression on her face meant. “Why?”

“Your building is in a liquefaction zone. If and when there is an earthquake of moderate to high magnitude and it would be severely damaged. It’s not safe.”

She tilted her head. “Have you been talking to my Dad?”

“No. Has he been telling you this? You should listen to him.”

“He has, but he has kind of outsized concern about collapsing buildings. Which I get, since one once fell on him. But I take it with a grain of salt.”

“In this particular instance, he’s correct. I’m a geologist. I know liquefaction zone.”

She wandered over to poke at the cookies. “I have a lease.”

“You could sublet to someone you don’t like very much.”

Frances laughed, and lifted one of the cookies to her mouth. It was too soon to eat it, but she was doing it anyway.

“You’re going to burn your tongue,” he informed her, trying not to sound exasperated. He was told he sounded like his mother when exasperated.

“It’ll be worth it,” she told him, managing to get chocolate all over her face.

He made a face at her. “You haven’t said you’d move in.”

“I assumed the bit about subletting it to someone I didn’t like was a joke. I know you make them from time to time. I really do have a lease, and it’s appallingly expensive, and as previously mentioned I don’t have a trust fund. Unless you’re offering to let me just live here for free, I can’t afford it.”

“You can live here for free until your lease is up, then we can negotiate a nominal rent to offset utilities and upkeep. Alternately, you can enquire with your land lord as to the penalties for breaking your lease and I can help offset those costs. It may end up being cheaper in the long run, depending on how long you have left on it.” He paused. “Please consider it. If your building collapsed my father would probably want to come out and help move things and he’s very old. Plus, _your_ father would never sleep soundly again.”

She munched her cookie. “Would you worry?”

He considered. “I make a conscious effort not to worry about things that I don’t have control over, otherwise I run the risk of getting stuck on it and running through too many scenarios. But it would be on my mind, and I would be sad if something happened.”

Then she smiled at him, all the way. That had made her happy. “All right. I accept.”

Neil smiled back. “Good.”

*

“So you moved in with him because of Earthquakes?”

Frances had gotten a lot of phone calls since she’d told her family of her new living situation. And she seemed to be having the same conversation with all of them. “Also that whole spacious mansion thing. But yeah, earthquakes. Now Dad can fret only about you.” Her younger sister Annie lived in LA, and heard the same warnings Frances had.

“Thanks, just what I wanted, sole and complete ownership of the Dad-worry.”

“You could move into a better building? That’s all I’ve got. Sorry.”

“Maybe George will decide he needs a sexy kept woman.”

“That sounds like a great way to get Chlamydia.

“Goddamn Starks.”

“Besides, Neil is surprisingly good company. He took care of me while my shoulder was messed up.”

“No offense, but I don’t think of nurturing when I think Neil.”

“You could say the same of me. Grandma Bennett once told me I was going to make a terrible wife.” Their paternal grandmother had been kind of a passive aggressive bitch sometimes.

She could almost hear Annie shrug. “You have your moments. But congrats on the housing improvements.”

“Thank you. I’m going to send you some pictures of my view so you can be jealous.”

“Of course you are.”

She looked at her clock. “I should go. We eat dinner at 6:09.”

A pause. “That is very specific.”

“Neil is very specific about some things.”

“Well, whatever works, man. He seems to be doing all right. Enjoy dinner.”

“Thanks,” she said, and after she hung up she went out in search of Neil. He’d been in the backyard on the rock wall the last time she’d seen him. The house was on a steep hillside, and the backyard was mostly sheer rock face. He’d installed climbing equipment, and tended to go out there when he wanted to think.

He was on his way down when she got out there. His descent was careful and methodical, only repelling the last few yards. Scooping up a bottle of water, he gave her a little wave as he drank.

Frances found she enjoyed watching him climb the cliff. She very deliberately didn’t examine that impulse, though, as that was probably 18 different kinds of bad idea. For the moment waved back. “Hungry?”

He nodded. “Any urges?”

“I was just thinking of making some pasta.” 

That got another nod and he took another swig of water. “I think there’s part of a baguette left. I can make garlic bread.”

“Sounds like a meal.” They went back into the house. “Have you told your family that I’m living here?”

He blinked down at her. “Of course. Was I not supposed to?”

“No, no. I was just going to ask if you were also getting bombarded with phone calls.”

“No. My mom asked a few questions but took it in stride. Are you getting lots of questions?”

“Yes. My family is very nosy. And also Ada has been sending me text messages with care and feeding instructions." 

Neil laughed. “That is very Ada.”

“Many are useful. Many I know. Some are. . . surprising.”

A brow listed. “Do I want to know?”

“Well. . .” she started carefully, as she didn’t want to offend him. He had some things he was really specific about, after all. “She told me the thermostat temperature should never be set on even degrees, only odd ones.”

His mouth twitched. “Ada is messing with you.”

Frances laughed, and tipped her head back. “God. Of course she is. That does explain why she told me you were afraid of potatoes. Considering you eat them often.”

“That’s a family joke. Hulk doesn’t like potatoes. Violently.”

“So is this a sign of acceptance? Because Ada scares me a little.”

“Ada is the least scary person in my family.” He paused. “No. A.B. is less scary.”

“Ada has a vibranium Iron Man suit that is enchanted with Asgardian magic, and is also kind of a mad scientist. She’d be a supervillain if she wasn’t so nice.”

“Hence, not scary.”

“People can be intimidating without being evil.”

“Intimidating and scary are different thing. I concede Ada is intimidating.”

He could be so very literal. It was lucky she found it endearing. “Fair enough.” She dug out a pot and put water on to boil.

Neil dug out the baguette and turned the oven broiler on. For a while they worked in companionable silence to get their dinner ready. It was nice. The apartment she’d grown up in was never quiet. She imagined Neil’s was even less so. He’d warned her about not bothering him when he had his headphones on, but she rarely saw them except when the gardener was there, or there was something heavy making noise in the dryer. Perhaps because Frances knew how to shut up.

In half an hour they were seated at the table with their pasta and garlic bread. “It is a sign of acceptance,” he commented, carefully shaking parmesan onto his pasta. “Ada teasing.”

She grinned at him. “Good. Thank you.”

“Though I think Ada has always liked you. I know she likes your father.”

“Dad has way more tact than I do. I wish I’d inherited some of that.”

“I don’t. I like your bluntness.”

“You are unique,” she told him. Which was the truest thing ever said. “But thank you.”

“We get along very well. I appreciate that.” He munched on a piece of garlic bread. “I have a lecture this week on plate tectonics and I like to do a bit on local earthquakes. ’06, ’89, ’29. I thought you might like to come and learn more about how your old building will one day sink into the bay.”

She took a piece of garlic bread herself. “Is that your 101 class? You’re probably scaring the piss out of the out-of-state freshmen.”

“But they will never rent an apartment on fill.”

“So it’s a public service?” She nodded. “I’ve actually would love to hear one of your lectures. So, yes.”

He smiled sweetly. “Great. It’s on Thursday at 1:10.”

She had no idea how that man managed to organize his classes at times he found visually pleasing, but she totally believed he could.


	4. Chapter 4

The class was crowded when Frances got there, and she took a seat in the back so she wouldn’t be in the way. She couldn’t help but notice the front row was kind of full of girls.

Neil arrived shortly after she had, but didn’t start the lecture until exactly ten after ten. She had expected him to be interesting but dry, like a well written text book. But he clearly practiced his lectures heavily, especially these 101 classes, and there were some moments of humor and use of metaphor and story telling she knew wasn’t natural to him, but made the information a little easier to absorb. 

The part about liquefaction, she had to admit, was scary as shit. He interlaced videos into his lecture, perhaps to give himself a moment to pause. But they were interesting. An animation showed buildings sinking into ground that turned to quicksand. They showed ripped earth at fault lines and the way the plates moved. One showed footage from beneath the collapsed bridge after the 2029 earthquake she knew had to have been filmed from Ada’s suit. 

At the end of the lecture, as the class began to disperse, the girls from the front clustered around the podium, trying to ask him questions. Frances winced and she came down the aisle. Lots of people talking at once was one of Neil’s least favorite things. But he seemed to get them settled and they seemed happy to loiter.

He had a fan club, and it was adorable.

He answered all of the questions thoroughly and one at a time, then excused himself to come over the Frances. “Are you glad you moved now?”

“I am,” she said. “And I had no idea geology professors had groupies.” 

His brow furrowed and he glanced back at the girls. “They always have a lot of questions.”

“Because they have crushes on you and want to talk to you.”

“Well, that’s impractical. I’m their professor.”

“Maybe they’re hoping for extra credit,” she told him. He was so adorably baffled. Those girls weren’t even subtle about it. There’d been a reasonably young and reasonably hot professor at her university who attracted fans—and according to rumors, took the girls up on it some time. At 20 it hadn’t made sense to her either, but there was a particular kind of girl that thought sleeping her way to better grades was a good idea. 

It occurred to her, as she stood there, that if he had no radar—and he didn’t—he could definitely inadvertently back himself into some kind of bad situation. They were watching still, so Frances reached out and took his hand. She raised her eyebrows and stared them down until she could see they understood _Mine._

Neil frowned at her, then glanced back at the girls again. She could almost see the wheels turning and the moment of clarity when he realized what she was up to. “Ah. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I assumed you didn’t want to boink a coed. If you did, I apologize.”

He made a hilarious face. “No. Not at all. Ever.”

She grinned. “Good. You could try a fake wedding ring, but that is not an impediment for this kind of thing. Might even make it worse. Someone will want to rescue you from you from your boring middle aged wife.”

He made another face. “I will continue to pretend I’m oblivious to their attentions and refuse any an all invitations for coffee.”

They walked out of the lecture hall and out into the quad. “Can I ask what might be an odd question?”

“Of course. What is it?”

“Are you. . .” She gestured at him. “…Aware of how good looking you are?”

His brow arched and he gave her a little smile. “I’m not sure how to answer that without sounding like a robot or a Stark.”

She chuckled. “Is that a yes?”

“I know that I’m good looking, yes. Social standards of attractiveness are arbitrary but easily understood.”

“It’s not just aesthetics, it’s a gut thing. Probably why they seem arbitrary.”

“I concede I do not have a metric for gut things.”

“It’s hard to pry apart. I mean, Ada could probably make an algorithm predicting it, but mostly you want who you want.”

“I have been attracted to people and had girlfriends, you know.”

“And yet you didn’t notice the flock of pretty girls trying to get into your pants.”

He considered a moment. “They’re students and not in the available pool of potential dates. I process my interactions with them differently.”

“Ah,” she said. “There are probably a number of women you don’t have in the potential dates pool who think you’re hot.”

“That’s possible. One could argue by categorizing people that way I might miss out on opportunities. But I’ve always done that, to one degree or another. It makes my life easier to navigate.”

“Makes sense.” She imagined she was probably in the same category as all the ‘cousins’. It was almost certainly for the best. But it made her sad just the same. She was starting to feel things she didn’t know what to do with. At least he wouldn’t notice.

“I usually get lunch at this time,” he said. “I know it’s late, but would you care to join me?”

“I would love to. Defending your honor has whipped up quite an appetite.”

“I suppose I owe you at least a meal for that.”

She grinned at him. “You owe me a good meal. I want steak.”

“I appreciate your decisiveness.”

*

Neil really did enjoy having a roommate, more than he’d even expected. It was nice to have company, and someone else to help with things. 

The weather turned warmer and the school year ended. Frances finished her PT, and gamely let him teach her proper rock climbing. She swore up and down she would be honest about anything so much as twinging. 

“One thing I miss about my apartment,” she told him one evening. “Which isn’t much. It’s probably the only thing, aside from your scary road. There was a pool and a spa.”

“My bathtub has jets,” he offered, popping pop corn on the stove.

“That is not the same. Though I’m jealous, my room doesn’t even have a bathtub.”

“You’d be welcome to borrow it. You could probably lay down in it.”

“Are you sure? That feels very intrusive, that’s your private space.”

He shrugged. “I shared a bathroom with A.B when I was in college. As long as you give me warning you’ll be in there and don’t do it when I’m trying to sleep I don’t see a problem.”

“A bath would be really nice.”

He greatly appreciated she double checked such things, even when she really wanted them. “I don’t have any bath salts or bubble bath or anything, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I can go get some.” She tilted her head. “I know no sandalwood. Anything else?”

“I don’t like mint. Or apple. Most florals are fine.”

And that was how his bathroom ended up smelling like rose and jasmine once a week. Her baths were quick, but the scent lingered. It was the sort of thing that ought to bother him, but somehow it didn’t. He supposed it helped that she then smelled like rose and jasmine for a day or two afterwards. And Neil associated Franny with happy, non stressful things.

The rock climbing classes continued apace. She was doing much better and could almost get to the top of his backyard rig.

“The view is worth it,” he told her.

“I’d turn around and look at it,” she called up to him. “But I’m afraid I’ll fall in an undignified fashion.”

“When you reach the top you’ll be able to soak it all in.”

She grumbled something and pulled herself up another set of handholds. There was a tenacity about her that he admired. He totally got how she’d ended up hurting herself rather than admit she couldn’t handle something.

He hit the top of the cliff and hauled himself onto the edge, watching her progress. She was probably going to be sore - there would be bathtub time - but at least now she had proper form and was using her legs to push as well as her arms to pull. He thought she’d even gotten some muscle definition in her upper arms and shoulders.

She reached the top, and pulled herself up with absolutely no grace. For a moment she stayed there with her face in the dirt. “Why did I do this?”

“Turn around,” he told her.

Frances moaned, but did so, slowly sitting on the ledge next to him. “Wow. This is even better than the deck.” She grinned at him, so wide her eyes crinkled. “And hey, I did it.”

He smiled in return. “You did. All by yourself.”

“I’m getting muscles,” she said, flexing her bicep to show him.

Yes, the definition in her arm was definitely new. “Your shoulders are more muscular as well,” he told her, since she seemed to be proud of it.

“They are. I should get some halter dresses to show them off.” 

“I thought women didn’t like to have big muscles?”

“They’re not big muscles. They’re little muscles. And they’re shaped nice.” She looked over at him. “You like your women scrawny?”

“I do not, but I do tend to overhear conversations.”

“Well, I like them,” she said, sounding a little defensive.

He wasn’t entirely sure what he’d done wrong, but Frances was usually upfront and easy to read. And she appreciated honesty. “They look nice on you.”

It was hard to tell because of the athletic exertion, but he thought she might have flushed more. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She fiddled with the rope lines in preparation for repelling back down. “Well. I think I’ve earned a bath, if that’s okay with you?”

He nodded. “I figured you would. Enjoy.”

She smiled, and then started back down. He had the uncomfortable feeling he’d missed something—which was not at all uncommon in his social interactions. But it was very rare with her. He watched to make sure she got to the bottom safely, then sat for a while longer, enjoying the peace and quiet, before heading inside as well.

And there he found the problem. He wanted to change out of his sweaty clothes, and she was in his bathroom. He could hear her splashing around in there, and the jasmine and roses drifted under the door.

This was, he supposed, why she’d hesitated in accepting the offer of the tub originally. Such awkwardness was probably inevitable. He cleared his throat. “I’m going to change out here,” he called through the door. “Just so you know.”

“Do you need the shower?” She called. “I can get out.”

He did want to shower, but not to a degree it would bother him to wait. “I don’t want to cut your bath short. I can just put on comfortable clothes and shower later.”

“It’s ok, the water is cooling.” There was more splashing, and then the sound of the tub draining. A few moments later the door opened and she came out, wrapped in a towel.

Neil immediately looked to the ceiling. “Thank you,” he said politely.

“You don’t have to avert your eyes,” she said. “I’m not showing any skin.”

“You’re in a towel.”

“I’m just saying. . .” She sighed. “Sorry. Never mind. Thank you for the bath.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied automatically.

She didn’t take any more baths after that. He didn’t know if he should comment on it or not. It seemed rude to interrogate someone about their bathing habits. But he missed his bathroom smelling like her.

The summer was peppered with odd incidents like that, where everything seemed normal, but he couldn’t shake the feeling he’d missed something.

A couple weeks before school started, the frequency of it started to distract him. He was already a little restless with the idea of another year of teaching the same thing. The thing with Frances seemed easier to settle than the other, so he decided to bring it up over dinner. They had a lot of nice conversations over dinner.

They were having a heat wave, bad enough the warm weather made it up to his house. They had the sliding doors open for the breeze and Frances had made a cold salad. “I didn’t want to turn on the stove.”

“Understandable.” He sat across from her at the table and watched her eat a moment. “I had something I wanted to talk to you about.”

She looked at him, and her fork stilled. “You look very serious.”

“It’s not a conversation I want to have, but I think it’s necessary.” He took a breath. “Something. . . is different between us the last couple of months.”

She put her fork down slowly. “So you have noticed.”

“I have. I just. . . don’t really know what happened.”

“Nothing happened,” she said. Her face turned red. He’d seen that a lot lately. “I mean, you didn’t do anything or anything. It’s my fault, I didn’t meant to make it weird.” She blew out a breath. “Maybe I should go.”

He frowned. “Please explain to me what is going on. You’ve always been very up front about things. That’s one of the reasons I like you.”

“I don’t want to freak you out. Or gross you out.”

“Currently you’re confusing me tremendously.”

She put her hands over her face, looking miserable and doing nothing for his confusion. Then, through her hands, she said. “I have feelings.”

That didn’t help much until he thought it over. “Feelings for me?”

Her hands didn’t move. “Yes.”

He considered that a moment. “Pants feelings?”

“Yes,” she said after a moment. “And I know I am not in that box in your head and it’s probably not a good idea and you are like literally my best friend but I can’t turn it off.” She moved her hands to the back of her neck and bent her head further.

He blinked. “I never said you weren’t in that box. You’re definitely in that box.”

She lifted her head. “Really?”

“Yes. Did I give you the impression you weren’t?”

“I guess I just assumed. And I mean I am socially awkward and not very good at this, but I can usually tell when a man is, you know, looking.”

There had to be some sort of irony in her thinking _she_ was the socially awkward one in this situation. “I wasn’t looking because I didn’t think I was allowed to look. You’re my friend and roommate I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Oh,” she said quietly. “You’re welcome to look,” she said after a moment. “I’d like it if you did.”

He smiled. “Well, then. I will do so. Will that help the awkwardness?”

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “Might make it worse. It’s certainly not going to go back to the way it was before.”

“So it’s a step forward.”

“Or a total disaster. It’s hard to tell at this point.”

Neil considered that a moment. “I think I’d like to try.”

She grinned. “Me too.”

“Good.” This had been a much better conversation than he’d feared.


	5. Chapter 5

The awkwardness did vanish. He understood what was going on and things stopped having undertones he missed. But, on the other hand, the distraction was 100 times worse. He had never been so aware of another person in his life. 

It was a little gratifying to know he seemed to have the same effect on her. She made no attempt at hiding her looks when he was out climbing without a shirt on, or otherwise being physical. It was one thing to know he was considered attractive. It was another entirely to have the object of his affection clearly appreciating said attractiveness.

She still climbed with him somewhat regularly. He liked watching her, too. She had really nice arms. Nice lots of things, really. He got the sense she didn’t realize how beautiful she was—and probably wouldn’t believe him if he told her. 

They sat together at the top of the cliff and she slid her hand into his. That was nice, too. He wove his fingers with hers and held on, feeling settled and content with her by his side. She put her head on his shoulder. “What are we going to do about this?” she asked quietly.

“We could try to have a relationship,” he offered.

“I think we’re probably already having one.”

“Then I am stumped.”

She didn’t say anything for a bit, then asked, “Do you want me?”

He turned his head and took a breath of her scent. “Yes.”

“There’s no coming back from that,” she said. “It’s one of those Rubicon things.”

“I know. I imagine that’s why we’ve been avoiding it.”

“I want you, too,” she said. She lifted her head to look at him. “I might already be over the bridge.”

He squeezed her hand. “You know, Caesar had a pretty good run after that bridge.”

“He did.” She looked down at their linked hands, and chewed one her lower lip. Then she looked back up at him. “Kiss me.”

Lifting his other hand to cup her cheek, he leaned in and did as she asked. She sighed as their lips touched, and she melted into him. As much as conversation sometimes eluded him, this. . .this he understood. She inched closer and opened her mouth to his, and for once there was perfect silence in his head.

They sat up there and kissed for a long time, getting used to each other, exploring. Then he lifted his head. “We should get down.”

“Yeah,” she said. She smiled at him. “I could use a bath.”

He smiled in return. “I think that sounds like a great idea.”

She kissed him gently, and then went and got her lines to start down. “I’ll see you inside.” He waited, watching her head down, waiting until she reached the ground before starting down himself.

By the time he reached the bottom she’d gone inside. He could hear the water running when he stepped in the house. He stopped at the base of the stairs a moment to check in with himself and make sure he was entirely on board with this and not feeling pressured from her expectations. When he was certain there was only excitement and no worry or reluctance, he head upstairs, taking them two at a time.

*

The last time Frances had taken a bath in his tub it had been awkward afterwards, and she’d stopped. She’d missed soaking the soreness out of her muscles.

She contemplated leaving the door open, as an invitation of sorts. But she expected Neil to need to stew on this a bit. Sex was a big deal, and he liked lots of advance warning for things far pettier—even good things. It would be good to scrub her skin and soak in bath oil. She knew he liked the way it smelled. Then they could make dinner and discuss parameters.

So she was a little surprised at the tap on the door. “Do you need someone to wash your back?” Neil called through the door. 

The tub was still filling and she hadn’t gotten in yet, though she was in the middle of undressing. Was it weird to go open the door in her underwear? Though he had just offered to join her, so she didn’t think he’d find it so. It was a sports bra and for a moment she longed for better lingerie. 

Taking a deep breath, she walked over and opened the door. 

He grinned widely when he saw her, bending to kiss her again. He was in the running shorts he’d worn to climb and nothing else, so she got to cuddle up against his very solid, if a little sweaty, chest.

“The water’s warm,” she whispered during a break for air. She kissed him again, then added, “If a bit girly smelling.”

“I like how your soap smells,” he assured her.

They’d backed their way into the room, so she only had to let go of him a little to turn the tap off. When she returned he felt the back of her bra looking for hooks and made a noise of consternation when he couldn’t find them. “They’re on the sides,” she said. “It’s actually industrial velcro, and kind of complicated how it’s wrapped.” She needed both hands to get it off.

“That is the most highly engineered bra I’ve ever seen.”

“Your sister made it.”

He made a face. “I’m going to try not to think about that too hard.”

“There will be boobs in a second to help you forget.” She undid the last fastening and peeled the whole thing off.

“Yes, but if I’m thinking about my sister while-“ He stopped and considered her now that she was naked from the waist up. “No, you’re right, that helps.”

She stood and let him look all he wanted. She knew she had a very nice rack. You didn’t need highly engineered sports bras if you didn’t. Eventually, he lifted his hands and stroked his fingertips along the skin of her breasts, very gently, making her shiver. She felt her breath come quicker, watching him touch her like she was made of glass. 

Finally - finally! - he cupped her breast fully, swirling his thumb over her nipple till it peaked. He kissed her mouth tenderly, stroking his other hand down her side to curl over her hip. It was the same slow, light touch, and it was really arousing. She wanted him to touch her like that everywhere. Even if it meant they stood here until the water got cold.

He kissed her just as gently, thoroughly as he had out on the cliff as he explored her. When he’d teased both breasts and mapped her sides and back with his hands, he lifted his head. “Bath?”

“Mmm?” she mumbled. She’d been so busy paying attention to his hands she’d all but forgotten where she was.

“The bath is waiting.”

She blinked and him. “Right. Bath.” She swallowed. “Hey, just for clarification, you’re not going to just wash my back, right? Because I am like _really_ turned on right now.”

He grinned and chuckled a little. “I was assuming an orgasm or two would be involved.”

“Good,” she said, shimmying out of her underwear. “Otherwise I’d have thrown you out.”

“I wouldn’t want that.” He watched her climb into the water, then shed his shorts to join her, giving her evidence that he was pretty turned on as well.

“Every time I’m in here, I think about making use of those jets. But it just seemed rude to masturbate in your roommate’s bathroom.”

He grinned. “I can see how that might be a boundary overstep.”

They were on opposite sides of the tub, but was small enough their legs tangled. She went up on her knees and crawled over to him so she could straddle his thighs. “We don’t have a lot of boundaries left anymore, do we?”

“I don’t think so, no.” He put his arms around her, helping her stay put. He was always very gentle and considerate of her.

She bent her head to kiss him. “Next time I’m here I’m going to try them and think about you.”

“What makes you think I won’t be here with you next time, too?”

Frances slid her hands over his shoulders and down his chest. His muscles were earned, incidental to his favorite hobby, which made them all the more enjoyable. Strength instead of vanity. “Well, that’s even better.” 

He tugged her closer, so she could feel the hard length of him trapped between their bodies. He pressed kisses to her throat and along her shoulder. “Are you on birth control?” he asked her.

That had been one of the things she assumed they’d discuss at the parameters conference. “I have an IUD.” She rocked her hips, grinding against him because she ached.

He groaned and she felt the hand on her hip move and his fingers stroked her sex, finding her clit and pressing to give her some friction. She gasped, it felt that good. “Please,” she whispered. “I want to come. I want you inside me. Order non-specific.”

Kissing her again, he stroked her gently a few more times, before shifting her to press the head of his erection to her. He cupped her thighs, carefully adjusting her until he could slide deep inside. Her whole body trembled as a shock of pleasure went through her. It felt so good, so good. She rolled her hips a few times and it felt better.

He pressed kisses on her chest, paying special attention to her breasts and nipples, sucking one into his mouth after licking got a particularly loud reaction from her. She swore she felt that shoot straight to her clit. She was a little afraid to be loud—he really didn’t like anything loud—but right now she absolutely could not help herself. She couldn’t have kept it in if she tried.

It didn't seem to bother him, as she felt him smile against her breast. He held her waist, helping her move and lifting his hips to stroke deeper inside her. She turned his face up so she could kiss him, and when she took a breath he said. “I have an idea.”

She couldn’t even form the words to ask him what he was talking about when he slid forward in the tub and leaned her back a little. “What- ” she finally started, and he hit the button to turn the jets on. He’d managed to hold her exactly perfectly, so the hot jet of water rushed between them, right across her clit. Later, she would think again about his inhuman sense of spatial relations. Right now, her entire body exploded. The pleasure was so fast and sharp and intense   
she cried out. The neighbors probably heard and he had four acres of land. Everything pulsed and shook. She’d never come that hard in her entire life.

She assumed he had come with her, or thereabouts, because when she finally came back to herself he was breathing hard and rubbing her back and stroking her hair out of her face.

For a moment, all she could do was stare at him. “Holy shit.”

He chuckled. “So good then.”

She laughed. “Are you _kidding_ me?”

“I was, yes. Even I can tell that was positive noises.”

He turned the jets off and the bubbles simmered down. Frances settled against his chest, completely melted. She hummed happily. “Mmm. I really thought we’d have to have a planning meeting and time for contemplation before we did this.”

“Did I rush you?” he asked, sounding concerned.

“No, no, not at all. I’ve wanted you for quite a while. But. . .” She lifted her head to look at him. “Spontaneity kind of stresses you out, honey. We spent three days negotiating changing our brand of dryer sheets.”

“Ah. Well. I have been giving this some thought, on and off. And I took a moment downstairs to make sure it was really what I wanted to do.”

“Good.” She kissed him. “And I know sex has got to be some serious sensory overload, even if it’s the good kind. I won’t be offended if you need a little space.”

“Thank you. I do enjoy it, and you. But I usually need some time after to decompress.”

She knew him about as well as she knew anyone. “How about we dry off and order some takeout?”

“That sounds like an excellent plan.”

Frances had noticed, in her months living with Neil, that when he found something new and interesting, he liked doing it over and over, until he had examined and memorized it down to the smallest part. 

After that day in the tub, it was her. He seemed to be making it his mission to learn ever bit of her, and them, and they spent weeks having the sort of sex she thought people only had in erotica novels and female-gaze porn. Sometimes they slept together at night, but mostly they didn’t, by mutual choice. It was. . . kind of amazing. 

She was most surprised by the uptick in casual touching. While he had hugged her a few times when they were friends, and never seemed to mind when she held his hand, after they started having sex, he touched her frequently. Sometimes a hug from behind when she was reading or working. Sometimes just a hand on her back as he passed her, or a kiss on top of the head. It seemed antithetical to what she knew about him.

“I find you comforting,” he told her when she brought it up. “Like Scout.” He made a face. “Don’t take that bad.”

“Not at all,” she said, because she was actually touched. “I understand. It makes me happy. I like physical affection.”

“Good. I’m glad we both getting something positive from it.”

They were sitting on opposite ends of the couch, passing a container of ice cream back and forth. “It is probably worth mentioning—and this is very explicitly not a complaint—but I get the sense you’re using sex as a stim.” She pointed her spoon at him. “And I just want to warn you in advance I may not always be able to keep up.”

He paused to consider that. She was getting used to his various head tilts. “You have a point. Based on behavior in previous relationships, I’ll settle out to a more reasonable level in another week or two. I just get a little obsessed with new toys. So to speak.”

She grinned. “I am having a blast right now, I promise you.”

“You did say it wasn’t a complaint. I hope the downgrade won’t be too disappointing.”

“Anticipation does good things for the libido,” she replied. She put the ice cream container on the coffee table. “Speaking of, I had an idea.”

His brows went up. “Do tell.”

“It’s occurred to me that if we turn all the lights off, there’s no way anybody would be able to see us out on the deck.”

He laughed, then considered it. Then he held out his hand.


	6. Chapter 6

Frances made Neil happy. More so, really, than any of the girlfriends he’d had in the past. The idea of being without her made him very uncomfortable.

Which was why he was on an airplane right now.

Edie Barnes was opening a restaurant in New York City. She’d invited all the cousins to come for a party as a dress rehearsal for opening. It wasn’t something Neil would usually go to, particularly being across the country. But Frances’s younger sister Annie lived in LA and had arranged to catch a ride with the George and AJ Stark on George’s private jet. She’d also convinced them to stop in SFO to pick up Frances.

Amazingly, he’d rather be on an airplane with her, than home alone.

“Do you think they have some schematics and recent inspection reports on the plane that I could look at?” he asked Frances, tapping incessantly on his arm rest.

She looked up at the ceiling. “FRIDAY?”

“Plane schematics and the last six months of repair and upkeep reports are in Mr. Banner’s console.”

She patted his knee. “Say what you will about him, George is pretty mechanically meticulous.”

“I know. I know a lot of things. It doesn’t always help.” Scout shifted to put her head on his knee and he stroked his head absently, trying to focus on the feel of her fur under his fingers. 

“I know,” she said. And she did. She looked at him with empathy and not like he was a time bomb. “We’ll be there soon.”

He nodded. “Do you know what kind of food Edith makes?” 

“No idea. Asima would know, I bet.”

“She’s working, I don’t want to bother her.” George’s plane had a flight attendant, because of course, and she was bringing around drinks and snacks. He remembered really liking the pretzels on the Stark jets, and so asked for some.

“It’s Edie,” Frances said. “She’ll make food for you. Every cuisine on earth had some form of rice or noodles.”

The pretzels were appallingly salty. They were nearly inedible.

“They’ve changed snack vendors,” he informed Frances.

She tasted the pretzels herself and made a face. “Wow, those are gross.”

“Yeah. Clearly I should have packed food.”

His phone chimed, and when he looked at it, there was a text from Ada. _You’re on George’s plane?_

He huffed a sigh and replied, _Why are you tracking me?_

_FRIDAY told me. I wish I’d know you were going to the thing, I’d have come back earlier._

_Where are you? Are you going?_

_I’m in Wakanda. I can be back tomorrow if you’ll still be in town._

He looked over at Frances. “How long are we staying in New York?”

“If we want to ride back with the Starks, until tomorrow night. Give everyone time to see their families.”

With a nod, he turned back to his phone. _Air Stark flies back to CA tomorrow night. It’d be nice to see you._

Of course, it wasn’t ten minutes before is phone lit up with texts from his mother, his father, and his younger brother. Because Ada. He sent a group text informing them he was in the air and stressed and would respond once he was on the ground and had had a chance to decompress. Then he tucked his phone away and leaned over to rest his head on Frances’s shoulder. 

She slid her hand into his and her thumb rubbed rhythmically over his. She smelled like jasmine and roses, and he remembered why he was on this plane in the first place.

When they landed at the airport, AB texted him again to tell him he was on his way to the restaurant and ask if he had any needs/requests for dinner. The airport—JFK, because George’s jet was too big to land elsewhere—was unbearably overstimulating and he sent a longer and picker list than he probably would have in a better mood. 

“I need a minute to breathe before we go to a crowded restaurant,” he told Frances.

She nodded, and jogged a few feet ahead to where George and AJ were striding in sync, like two matching copies of his Uncle Tony. She stuck herself between them and told them whatever car they’d arranged to pick them up, she’d need a second one. George said something he didn’t catch, and she replied, “Because four hours was enough of your aftershave.”

Their collected extended family would cooperate with just about anything requested under the cover of Neil’s Special Needs. But he was oddly touched she was trying to take the blame for making George order a second town car. 

“Thank you,” he murmured, once they were settled alone in the new car. It smelled of cleaning supplies and about four kinds of soap and perfume, but it was mercifully quiet.

They sat in silence for the first ten minutes as the car moved through traffic. Eventually Frances said, “My sister knows.”

“Annie? Did she say something?”

“I went to ask her to go in the car with the boys. She asked me what was up with you, which sounded to me like she was asking what was up with _us_ , and I didn’t even get to reply because whatever was on my face caused her to say ‘Oh really?’ At which point I told her I’d talk to her later and to not gossip.”

He couldn’t help but smile a little. “Sisters.”

“She’s pretty good, she’ll keep it to herself.” Before they’d left, he and Frances had talked about it and decided not to tell their families about the current state of their relationship. Because it was private, and they’d swarm. 

“I feel like Ada will know, too. When she sees me.”

She sighed. “Well, then everyone will know.”

“Yes. But we will be back in California by then.”

“Fair point.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “You feeling any better?”

He took a deep breath. “I am,” he said. “You help.”

“Good. I feel really bad for dragging you to this thing.”

“You didn’t drag me. I came because I wanted to come with you.”

He could feel her settle a little bit, and that made him feel better, too. It made him upset if she was upset, too. “I do have a hotel room for tonight,” she said. “Though I know you hate them. I figure we’ll both have family visits tomorrow with our parents, particularly with everyone in town. So you may just want to go up to Ithaca tonight.”

It was a conundrum. He wanted to stay with her, because she settled him. But he did hate hotels and tonight was going to be very stimulating, so adding more stress would be ill advised. Or, would being with her counteract the other stresses? Ithaca would be far less stressful. But if she came with him to Ithaca it would be a very big announcement.

“I’ll think about it,” he told her.

“Scout will take good care of you,” she said like she knew what he was thinking. She did that a lot. “So will your siblings.”

“I know. But I’m beginning to prefer you.”

He could hear the smile in her voice. “I prefer you, too. But telling everyone will not do anything good for your stress level.”

“I know.” He sighed. “I’ll see how the dinner goes. It’s a roomful of people who understand and are willing to accommodate me. It probably won’t be that bad.”

And. . . it actually wasn’t. His cousins were as accommodating as always, and it was genuinely nice to see most of them. Edie’s food was really good. And Frances sat next to him the whole night. 

Asima sat on his other side, and near the end of dinner she said, “AB and I are going to bum a car from the Tower motor pool and drive up to Ithaca tonight so he doesn’t have to sleep on my couch. You wanna come?”

Lying was difficult, but he could connect a few truths to make a good story. “I have a hotel room. Ada is flying in tomorrow and wanted to get together.”

“You’re not going to come up to see Mom and Dad?”

From across the table, AB asked, “You’re staying in a _hotel_?”

He sighed. “It’s a nice hotel.”

“I didn’t know that mattered.”

“Will you come up in the morning?” Asima asked. “I don’t want Mom to drag us back to the city, I sold my soul to an unrepentant asshole for the day off. Bring Ada.”

He refrained from looking at Frances. “Yes. I’ll make an appearance upstate to see Mom and Dad.”

That seemed to satisfy them, and neither of them bugged him about it again. He did watch Frances fend of three separate requests to come out drinking after dinner. No one asked him to go out drinking, because they’d all known him their whole lives. 

It was good to see them all, but he was grateful to be back in the car on the way to the hotel.

“I’m content to not do that for another five to seven years,” he commented.

“And yet we’ll have to do it again at Christmas.” She sounded as enthused as he felt.

He sighed deeply at the thought and decided it was too far away to worry about. “It was nice, though. Everyone was happy.”

“You sure you’re going to be okay with the hotel?”

“I think so. If I’m uncomfortable I’ll go for a walk or something.” He smiled at her. “I have you and Scout and I’m not too wound up. I should be fine.”

She put her hand on his knee. “I can keep you plenty distracted.”

“You are very good at that,” he agreed.

And that was exactly what she did. He got lost in her, and the sheets were soaked in her scent. Scout gamely spent half the night in the bathroom so they could have some privacy. And he slept better than ever had in a strange bedroom, in his life.

He woke early, jet lag messing with his patterns. Frances was still fast asleep, so he got his computer and brought it to bed, poking around on the internet for a while and enjoying the peace before people started to text them and set up meetings.

Eventually she stirred, but didn’t seem inclined to move. “How did you sleep?”

“Better than I had any right to.”

She leaned up just enough to kiss his arm. “You have every right to.”

“I meant than I expected to based on previous evidence. Not that I didn’t deserve it.” He kissed the top of her head. “But thank you either way.”

“I wish we could just stay here,” she said with a sigh.

“Family obligations are exhausting,” he agreed.

Under the blankets, he felt her hand slide up his leg. “How much time you got?”

“Ada lands in just under and hour and it will take less than twenty minutes to get to the Tower to meet her.”

She grinned at him. “Plenty of time.”

They shared a shower afterward—just to bathe—and shared a cab to the Tower. She was visiting her parents, who still lived in it. She got off on their floor, and sent him up to the penthouse with a kiss on the cheek.

He continued up to the penthouse to find Ada and her family already there. She bounded over to him - despite being in her forties, Ada still bounded - and paused until he gave her the nod to hug him. “Hey little brother.”

“Hi, Ada.”

“Asima told me you went to a hotel. You didn’t have to, I had space here.”

He shrugged. “It was fine. I had Scout. I slept well.”

She tilted her head and looked at him, making the face that indicated her wheels were turning. “You are as chill as I have ever seen you.”

“Thank you?” he said, arching a brow.

“Seriously, the flight, the party, the hotel, I kind of assumed but the time you got here you’d be practically twitching and staring at the ceiling.”

“I have a lot of coping and self soothing mechanisms now. And the dinner wasn’t bad. The cousins know my limits.”

He could see on her face she wanted to continue interrogating him until she pieced together the puzzle. She was going to do something like tell him based on the position of his ears or his hair part or something that she could tell he’d had sex in the last 24 hours (or, as it were, the last 2). The rest of it would become swiftly obvious from there.

But then her husband strolled over, like the diplomat he was, and intervened. “The jet is ready downstairs, my love. We’ll miss our take-off window if we don’t get going.” He smiled and bowed his head. Wakandans weren’t really hand shakers. “Hello, Neil. It’s good to see you.”

“Hi Azi. Thank you.” He looked at Ada. “Are you leaving again? I promised the other As we’d come up to Ithaca.”

“We’re all going to Ithaca together. I hate traffic. We’re borrowing one of the Quinjets. Kamara wants to show Mom and Dad her new tattoo.” She turned a little. “Hey, Kam, come here, show Uncle Neil your tattoo.”

Most Americans would have some sort of heart attack at tattooing a 14 year old, but it was an expected right of passage in Wakanda. The school in NY where the kids went had put up a fight about the girl’s eyebrow piercings, too. But Ada won, because Ada always did.

His niece came over and proudly rolled up her sleeve to show him the tattoo wrapping around her upper arm. Neil inspected it, recognizing the Wakandan symbology. “Very nice,” he told her. “When’s the next one?”

“Two years,” she said.

“I brought rocks to show you!” Shani called from behind Azi.

“On the plane,” Azi replied. “Come on, come on.”

Neil allowed him to be ushered onto the plane with the rest of them. He sat with Shani and went through the rocks she had brought him, telling her what they were and what the various striation meant and where in the strata you would find it. She had brought him a hunk of vibranium, which told her to bring back other father. 

The pout and stubborn jut of her chin in response was all Ada.

His parents met them all at the landing pad. Seeing his mother kind of made the whole trip worth it. Like he’d been doing for twenty-odd years now, he lifted her off her feet when he hugged her.

“It’s so good to see you,” she whispered, ruffling his hair like she had since he was a toddler.

“You too. I miss you.”

“I miss you, too. This was a really nice surprise.”

“The dinner was fun,” he told her, carefully setting her on her feet. “It was nice to see everyone without the Grown Ups.”

The grandchildren swarmed her then, and Neil stepped back. They’d talk later, he was sure. He hugged Dad and they got talking about science as they rode back to the house from the hangar. He was thinking of working on another Ph.D. but hadn’t settled on a topic.

His father collected doctorates like some people collected knickknacks. It was a family tradition Neil followed in. A lot of autistic people had one thing they became intensely interested in, and did so their whole lives. Neil kind of thought his might be learning itself.

“So what did you do for your third?” he asked when they ended up sitting in out on the deck that afternoon. AB was running Ada’s younger kids around the lawn, and Azi and Kamara were climbing Neil’s childhood rock wall. His mother, Ada, and Asima were on one end of the deck talking, and Neil and his father on the other. It was objectively weird to segregate by sex, but they often did it anyway.

“Well,” his father said, “That was actually technically med school. Thought it might prove useful.” Only a Banner would decide on a whim to just. . . go to med school.

Neil wrinkled his nose. “Mmm. Too much like Asima. I was actually contemplating something more liberal arts. Pick a historical period and immerse myself in it.”

“I did sociology for my last one,” Dad replied. He was doing it for sport now. Cornel was next door and all. “Fascinating stuff, though might make you want to strangle humanity.”

“I want that sometimes already. Though maybe it would help. Understanding why people do what they do.”

“Probably would make more interesting first date conversations than fossils.” 

Frances didn’t seem to mind his fossil talk. But she was unique. “I’ll keep thinking on it. Read some books, see if anything grabs me.”

Dad nodded. There was a stretch of silence, then he sighed and said, “I know your personal life is not really my business. . .”

In retrospect, this was all probably inevitable when he’d decided to come out with Frances. “But?”

“Your younger sibling are convinced, and have convinced your mother, that there is something going on with you and Franny Bennett.”

He was quiet a moment. “They are correct.”

There was another pause. “She make you happy?”

“She does. She’s calming and she understands me. We’ve lived together a while and she’s adapted to my routines. I don’t think my needs cause her any distress or upset. It’s been the best relationship I’ve had.”

“Do you make her happy?”

“I believe so. She hasn’t given any indication otherwise. She’s the reason I came out here.”

“You should be sure. You’d be surprised what women hold in sometimes.”

Neil nodded. “That’s good advice. I’ll talk to her.”

“I’ll try to keep the rest of them from hassling you. But, you know how your mother worries.”

“I do. We just didn’t want to be swarmed. It’s why we haven’t told anyone.”

“Yeah, I can’t fault you for that.” He looked over Neil. “You’ve come a long way from sprinting into Manhattan traffic, kid.”

He smiled. “I don’t believe I’ve ever been given enough credit for introducing you two.” They’d met because toddler-aged Neil had broken from his mother’s grasp and run into the street. Dad was the stranger who had caught him before he could get run over.

“I will give you full credit. I can’t even imagine where I’d be if that hadn’t happened. In a cage on the RAFT, probably.” He smiled. “Love. A family. It’s so worth it, Neil. Even it’s hard.”

“I know,” he said. His parents marriage had been a source of strength and calm for both of them, for as long as Neil could remember. “I’m looking forward to it.”


	7. Chapter 7

When Frances walked into her parents apartment, all talking stopped. Her mother and three sisters were at the kitchen island, and in the silence all eyes turned to her. They all knew. She could tell by their faces.

“I didn’t tell them,” Annie said immediately. “Everyone figured it out on their own last night.”

She put her hand over her eyes and contemplated going back out the door. “Awesome.”

“They’ll behave,” her mother said. “You’re an adult.”

“Who is sleeping with one of our cousins,” Ellie said. “Wow, that sounds worse out loud. But I do have questions.”

“I admit,” Emma said, “If you’d asked me which one of the collected boys would get it on with one of the girls, Neil would not be at the top of the list.”

“Who would?” Annie asked.

“George,” Emma said.

“Roger,” Ellie said. “None of us are going to sleep with George.”

“I would think it would need to be someone who doesn’t have, like, a poon hound reputation,” Annie said. “Like Joey. Or Jamie, if Jamie liked girls.”

Frances used their conversational distraction to get herself a drink and a snack. They’d get back to her interrogation, but she appreciated the apparent discussion about which of the boys was most fuckable, because it would probably stop them from making an awkward jokes about hooking up with cousins.

Her mother, unfortunately, had to forgotten about her. “How did this start?” she asked quietly, while the others riffed.

“Well. When a man and a woman have special feelings for each other-“

“Frances Gwendolyn Bennet don’t you sass me. I taught you sass.”

She sighed. “I don’t think it ‘started’. Other than, like, you giving him my phone number. We were friends and then it just kind of. . . turned into something else.” She opened the freezer to look for ice cream, because she was going to eat some if she was going to have this discussion. “How much detail about my sex life do you want?”

“I want detail!” Ellie called.

“Don’t be gross,” Annie said.

“Is it a fling, or a relationship?” her mother asked.

“I’m not dumb enough to have a casual fling with the guy I’m living with.”

“Good. Why is it a secret?”

Wordlessly she pointed to her sisters, and carried her bowl of ice cream to the island. Her mother followed. “Because I am really uncomfortable and kind of want to climb under the dining room table right now. And I’m not someone who needs a service dog to handle the grocery store.”

“Fair enough. Is he going to tell his family?”

“AB and Asima know,” Emma said. “Everybody does.”

“There you go,” she said to her mother. “You don’t have to try and hide something from Aunt Violet.”

“Good.” She turned to the other girls. “There will be no interrogations or teasing. Are we clear?”

“They’ll just ask me later.” She took a bite of her ice cream. “One question each. Make it a good one.” They couldn’t be that bad. No one was going to ask her penis-size question with Mom standing there.

“Is he good?” Emma asked, causing Ellie and Annie to face palm.

She could feel her face heat. “Yes,” she said, not looking at her mother. “He is not someone who does anything halfway, let’s say that.”

This got a round of cat calls and she ate some ice cream aggressively.

“Does he make you happy?” Annie asked.

“Yeah.” She pointed at Emma. “And not just that way. In many ways. All ways, really. We just seem to fit, I guess. And I know everybody thinks he’s odd, but I’m pretty weird, too.”

“Yeah, you are.” Fran was too far away, so Annie punched Emma’s arm for her.

Frances looked at her last sister. “Elinor?”

“I don’t think I have one, that answer was super cute.”

“Thanks.” She went back to her her ice cream. 

“Sorry,” Emma said. “I thought you were just, you know, banging. I didn’t realized you were in love with him.”

And now her face was red again. But she made no attempt to deny it. Even if she had avoided consciously thinking about it, in her bones she knew it was true.

Her mom reached over and rubbed her back. “It’s always strange with it hits you.”

“I don’t know what will happen with us,” Frances said honestly. “But it feels as serious as anything ever has. And he’s terrible with non-verbal communication, which you’d think would be terrible but is not, because we actually have to discuss everything in a straightforward fashion.”

“Hey, communication is key. Much as your father jokes about my lack of filter, he’s never had to worry about if I was pissed at him and not saying so.”

“It works,” she said. “We work.”

“Good. I’m happy for you. I always liked Neil. He was a cute kid and a nice man.” Mom stole some of her ice cream. “You know I carried him down thirty flights of stairs the night Ultron attacked.”

“I did not, but will make sure I’ll remind him.”

“If only you’d known,” Ellie said. “One day that little kid would provide you with grandchildren.”

“Hey, hey,” Frances said. “We’re not that far yet.”

“Don’t turn into your grandmother, El,” Mom said. “Your father’s health is weak enough as it is.”

“He’ll beat me with his cane if it happens.”

“It’s true. And you know Stark is dying to weaponize canes. It’ll have little killer robots that pop out of it or something.”

“Don’t say that too loud,” Frances said. “You’ll give them ideas.” She looked at her mother. “Where is Dad, by the way?”

“I’m not sure. Telling urchins to get off his lawn, possibly. FRIDAY, where’s my husband?”

“I believe he went to get bagels for Frances,” the AI replied.

“He’s showing you love through food,” Mom told her.

“Bagels sound fantastic.”

During a lull later in the day, she texted Neil to tell him they were out of the bag, so to speak, and he confirmed he’d discussed it with his family. Around dinner time he flew back to the city with Ada, and came downstairs to be gamely ribbed by her sisters. It felt very normal and natural. It had only been a day, but she’d missed him.

He was clearly more comfortable with PDAs now that everyone knew, even putting his arm around her as they headed down to the lobby to take a car out to the airport and fly home. “I feels like it was a good day,” he commented. “A good trip.”

“It was,” she said, helping Scout into the back of town car. “I’m way less worried about Christmas now.”

“Me too. And everyone can have their little freak outs while we’re 3000 miles away.”

“My family is happy for us,” she said. She rested her head on his shoulder as they pulled away. “There was a little interrogating, but it was all good.”

“Mine seemed happy as well. Though it was mostly Dad talking to me about it and I never expected him to be nosy.” He looked down at her. “Are you happy with me?”

She looked up, surprised. “Of course I am.”

He nodded. “Dad suggested I check. I thought it was unlikely you’d be unhappy about something without telling me, but conceded it was worth checking in with you.”

For a moment she considered telling him she loved him. But that wasn’t a conversation for the back of a car on the way to the airport. Instead she said, “Honestly, this is the happiest I’ve been in a long time.”

“Me too.” He gave her a squeeze. “It’s hard to me to show that, I know. But I don’t want you to ever doubt it.”

She kissed him. “I don’t.”

They stopped on the way to the airport to get some pizza for her. He even tried a bite, which she gave him credit for. She’d packed snacks for him for the flight, it was a bit more relaxed. Nobody even teased them.

Both of them were incredibly grateful to get back home. In what was definitely a first, they slept together in his bed without having any kind of sex. Usually it only happened when they’d exhausted themselves too much to move. But on this particular night they just. . . did. Sometimes, just company and contact was enough.

Morning sex was always fun, too.

She had a very intense crunch time at work, and he took care of her while she worked crazy hours. She helped him grade tests during midterms. They bought an outdoor hot tub. Their lives wove together, and they were both content.

One afternoon, she came home with couple of giant bags of halloween candy she’d bought at 85% off—because it was November—to find him in the living room frowning at his phone. “Something wrong?”

“My parents want to come visit,” he said, sounding sort of perplexed.

“Ah,” she said. “Okay. Aren’t we going back for Christmas?”

“I had assumed so. I’m very confused. This is out of character for them.”

“You think something is wrong?”

He made a face, then very deliberately put his phone away. “If there was a problem she’d tell me. Maybe she just wants to see me.”

Frances took a breath. “Okay. Are they going to stay here? We can put them in my room, that’s probably the easiest.” The house had five bedrooms. One his, one hers, one housing his rock collection and another his library. The fifth they’d turned into a home office for her so she wouldn’t take over his library permanently.

“They usually stay in a hotel near the golf course. It has a spa and doesn’t require anyone to drive up a windy road in the dark.”

“That’s probably better,” she replied. “Still, I. . . think I need to go clean the baseboards.”

He tilted his head. “Are you nervous?”

“A visit from your Significant Other’s parents is generally a cause for nerves, yes.”

“But you’ve known them your entire life. You know they like you.”

“They like Darcy and Cal’s curly haired oldest daughter. Now I’m the woman sleeping with their little boy. It’s different. The house needs to be clean.”

He blinked at her another moment, then reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. “What about hiring a house cleaner to do a deep clean? So you won’t stress yourself out with it.”

She stared at him. “You’ll let a stranger touch your stuff?”

“I’ve had people come do spring cleanings other places I lived. If you get someone who works for themselves and uses your own supplies it’s not bad.”

“That would be really nice, actually. Thank you.” She reached out and hugged him. 

He held her tightly. “I don’t want you to worry.”

It was fine. It would be fine.

She came home from work three days later to a scrubbed clean house, and they picked Neil’s parents up from the airport the following weekend. They’d flown commercial, though in first class, so they had to mill about the baggage claim until they appeared. Neil picked his mom up in his hug. When he put her down Violet immediately turned and hugged Frances.

“Hi,” Frances said in greeting. She shouldn’t be surprised, Violet hugged everyone.

“It’s very good to see you both,” Violet said, leaning back to smile at her.

“Welcome to San Francisco,” she said. “How about we get some food in you guys.”

“That would be great,” Bruce said, giving her a gentle smile. “We’re starving.”

She decided to put her energy towards hosting duties. She knew stuff like that made Neil uncomfortable, so she handled it. She got them fed, and got them safely to their hotel with plans to come over in the morning for breakfast.

Back at Neil’s he seemed to make an effort to give her hugs and even suggested she go take a bath. She dithered, and he ran the water for her. He was getting better at reading her than she’d ever expected.

The bath _was_ really nice.

He was waiting for her on his bed when she came out. “I’m trying to decide what to get my next degree in,” he said conversationally. “I’m thinking of Art History.”

She sat on the bed in her robe. “That sounds like a field full of meticulous examination of tiny details.”

“I know, it’s perfect. And art is a major blind spot for me.” He looked up from his laptop. “I think I need an appointment with an optometrist, I’ve had to increase the test size on my reader twice in the last six months.”

“I find glasses sexy,” she said. “But then I like nerds.”

“That would explain what you see in me.” He lifted an arm for her to tuck under. 

She cuddled up next to him and rested her head on his shoulder. “I could make a very long list of things I see in you. Thank you for the bath.”

“You’re welcome. Is there anything I can do that will make you enjoy my parents visit?”

Frances chuckled. “I don’t know. I’m trying to chill, I am.” She turned her face up and kissed his jaw. “Close your laptop.”

“Yes, dear,” he murmured, doing so and setting it on the nightstand before turning to kiss her properly. 

It had seemed like such a serious subject, something that would change things, that she’d wanted to have a proper discussion. But then it just came out bubbling out of her mouth, once he’d peeled all her defenses away. 

“I love you,” she whispered, drifting after a particularly overwhelming orgasm.

There was a moment of silence, long enough for panic to pierce her calm. Then he kissed her tenderly. “I love you, too.”

She cupped his cheek, meeting the kiss. It was perfect, and about as intimate as anything had ever felt in her life. Afterwards, he tucked her up into his side and took a deep breath of her scent, holding her close.

“I feel better now,” she whispered, because she did.

“I’m glad,” he said sincerely.

They had his parents over for breakfast in the morning. She cooked pancakes for everyone to give him time to hang out with his folks. She wasn’t even a little surprised when Violet joined her in the kitchen.

“He thinks I’m being ridiculous,” Frances commented. “But you guys came out here to size me up, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Violet said, pouring herself a cup of coffee. “Though perhaps not in the way you might be thinking.”

“In retrospect, you don’t seem like the white-glove-on-the-mantle type.” She glanced over. “But you’ve known me my whole life, so you can’t think I’m a money grubbing asshole or whatever.”

“I don’t. Actually, it’s quite a relief, for him to be dating you. I can trust you not to be manipulating him. It’s a concern I’ve had since he grew up and moved out.” She added sugar and some cream to her coffee. “I just wanted to come out and make sure. . . you were on the same page, I suppose. Relationships are hard to navigate for all of us, mores for Neil. And shifting from friends and roommates to something more is perhaps more complicated than most.”

Frances felt oddly defensive. “Is this the bit about not thinking he can manage a serious relationship? Because I’ve been waiting for somebody to come at me with that, but I didn’t think it would be you.”

Violet shook her head. “No. Not at all. He was very closed lipped about what was going on, but he’s an adult and he’s had relationships before. Bruce seemed to think he was very serious about you. Which I’m thrilled about. I just wanted to make sure we were reading the scene right, and that you were both feeling the same.”

“Serious?” she asked. “Yes. We are very honest with each other. We have to be. If you watched us, you’d probably find it very unromantic. But it works for us.” She flipped the pancakes onto the plate and poured more batter. “Our communication is probably better than my last three relationships put together.”

She smiled. “I do find a certain irony in the fact he didn’t talk in coherent sentences until he was five, but is now the best verbal communicator I know.”

“He told me they told you he would never finish high school, and would never live on his own.”

“The first doctor I took him to, yes.” She smiled into her coffee. “He proved him wrong.”

“There are a lot of things about him that some people would consider bugs that I think are features. Everybody has their needs and none of them are _objectively_ any weirder than any others. Outside of the societal context. I will take the finger drumming, repetitive Nova documentaries, highly specific meals times and having to drive to Half Moon Bay for donuts over a wall covered with Niner memorabilia any day of the week and twice on Sunday.”

“Those donuts _are_ very good.”

She laughed, flipping the pancakes over. “I love your son,” she said. “And I will take good care of him. And him of me. He’s pretty good at it.”

Violet nodded. “Good. That’s all anyone can ask.”

They brought the pancakes out, and to everyone’s surprise, Neil offered to take his parents to do some touristy things in San Francisco. It was a weekday, and about as off-season as touristy things got, so it ended up a lot of fun. 

They ended the day at the MOMA, wandering the galleries. Neil told his parents he was thinking of diving into Art History, which amused his father and delighted his mother, who had an interest in the topic as well. They made jokes about taking classes together and trading papers back and forth.

“I had a good day,” she told him that night. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, sounding a little surprised. “It was a really nice day.”

“Your mom and I talked this morning. Cleared the air.”

His brows raised. “If you break my heart will she break your face?”

She laughed. “Not exactly. I think she wanted to make sure we weren’t misunderstanding each other.”

“Ah. That sounds more like her.”

She pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and draped it over her legs. “It’s occurred to me we’re probably at a point where we should discuss where we stand on other serious-relationship things.”

“I’m in a good mood, go ahead and start.”

“Marriage? Kids? Joint bank accounts? Monogrammed towels?”

“Yes. Yes. FRIDAY and my financial advisor manage all my accounts so I’ll leave that up to you. I hate monograms, they’re in the wrong order.”

“1a. Wedding or elopement?”

He sighed deeply. “I would like my parents and siblings there. And your parents and siblings. Not the whole crowd.”

“That’s fair. That’s still a lot of people.” She paused. “About #2. . . You know how disruptive little kids are, right?”

“Perhaps you have forgotten the houses in which I grew up. Children are loud and have their own schedules and needs. But they’re interesting and fun to teach and watch grow.” He looked at her. “They will almost certainly be on the spectrum, or have qualities of someone on the spectrum.”

That made her smile. “Yeah, you and aren’t exactly going to produce the quarterback and head cheerleader, are we?”

“I suppose there might be some recessive genes that could pop up.”

“I understand, though. Our kids could come out all sorts of ways. You know I’m technically actually mildly enhanced?”

He nodded. “You were born in Wakanda. It makes sense. AB is, too.”

“It’ll be fun to see how they come out. Not, like right now, obviously. But eventually.”

“I think so too. We have very diverse genes.”

Another man might have said they'd have beautiful children, Neil commented on genetic diversity. But as he shifted to tuck his feet under the blanket with her and started scrolling through Stanford's Art History courses, she realized she wouldn't have it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for Frances and Neil! I'll be back next week with our next Legacy story, starring Edith Barnes.


End file.
